It's Hard to Be a Good Wife and Mother

Mo Dai had thought her blind eyes would never be of any use again in this lifetime. But it seemed fate meant to give her a chance to see the light once more, arranging for her to transmigrate on the night of her twenty-eighth birthday She really ought to thank fate thank it for letting her open her eyes only to find herself hanging from a branch halfway down a cliff, then plummeting freely the very next second, landing sideways and slamming straight into a rock; thank it for sending her to a matriarchal world where women supported their families, and making her the head wife of a dirt-poor farming household with nothing but bare walls; thank it for giving her, an older woman with little romantic experience in her previous life, the terrifying reality of already having a husband and three children, one three years old, one two, and another still in her belly; thank it for showing her just how complicated her relationships were: relatives who felt like strangers, unfriendly neighbors, and husbands, one emotionally distant, one timid and spineless, and another who looked down on her completely. A person needs something to live for. The wonder of being reborn was soon shattered by the harshness of reality Why should she live? How was she supposed to live? When a timid, soft, sweet little voice like a kitten’s reached her ears, calling, “Mama,” she looked at the two children before her, so thin they were skin and bones and clearly already sickly. Her heart trembled. Though the soul inside this body had changed, the bonds of blood and family could not be erased. She had to admit that, in that moment, she had accepted her fate She could put the husbands aside for now. For the children’s sake, she had to do her best to live well. She would hold up this poor household for them. She did not ask for wealth or status, only to make sure the children were well-fed. Drawing on the little wisdom and experience she had from her previous life, and occasionally making use of her useless supernatural ability, she resolved to be resilient and keep a low profile, to act with dignity and without arrogance, to farm steadily and live an honest life, and to work hard to earn money and care for her family. Watching the children grow plumper, watching her family’s brows gradually smooth, she felt a deep sense of satisfaction. She hoped life would continue to go so smoothly, but ideals were beautiful and reality was a melodrama. She had overlooked fate’s longstanding fondness for romantic fiction. The problems of the heart she had tried to cast aside ever since she transmigrated were gradually coming to the surface.